


If I Could Believe That Stuff I'd Say That Woman Has A Halo

by leiascully



Series: New York AU [16]
Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003), The X-Files
Genre: Crossover, F/F, leiascully: NY AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-04-07
Updated: 2009-04-07
Packaged: 2017-10-03 01:58:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leiascully/pseuds/leiascully
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first thing Scully noticed was the woman's legs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If I Could Believe That Stuff I'd Say That Woman Has A Halo

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This story sort of fits in the New York AU, but not anywhere in particular. Title is from Dar William's "Cool As I Am".   
> Disclaimer: _Battlestar Galactica_ and all related characters belongs to Ronald Moore, NBC Universal, Sci-Fi Channel, and Sky One. _The X-Files_ and all related characters are the property of Chris Carter, 1013 Productions, and Fox Studios. No infringement is intended and no profit is made from this.

The first thing Scully noticed was the woman's legs. They went on for several days under the snug pencil skirt the woman was wearing. She had them crossed under the counter; when she shifted and recrossed them, Scully couldn't help watching.

Scully wanted legs like that. Barring a sudden unlikely growth spurt, it was never going to happen, but the next best option was to have legs like that twined through hers. It had been decades since Scully had slept with a woman, since college when her head had been full of intertial coefficients and angular momentum, but she had fond memories of smooth calves and a glorious tumble of hair caught in her desperate fingers. She shifted in her seat and looked at her sushi menu, but she couldn't help sneaking glances at the woman, who, in addition to the legs, had a mass of auburn hair that Scully suddenly and painfully wanted to see spread over a pillow. She was only in New York for the weekend, attending the wedding of a college friend, escaping Mulder and the awful shadow of the hospital. She could get away with it. Maybe it would make up for the travesty of her few stolen kisses with Ed Jerse.

The server set a plate of food in front of the woman, who nodded her thanks and picked up her chopsticks. Scully surreptitiously craned her neck to see what the woman was eating: there were only a few feet of counter between them, but still, it was hard to tell what was what. She was tired of looking at the menu, though, frustrated, restless. "I'll have what she's having," she told the man behind the counter. The woman looked up and smiled. She set down her chopsticks.

"I don't know why I pretend I can use these," she said, picking up a piece of sushi with her fingers. "They just make things awkward."

Scully smiled politely back. "I know what you mean." There was a smudge of eel sauce on the woman's finger. Scully wanted to lick it off. The woman tipped the piece of sushi into her mouth and wiped her fingers delicately on her napkin. She held out her hand.

"I'm Laura."

Scully shook the elegant hand, which was cool and strong. "Dana."

"And what is it that you do, Dana?" Laura picked up her tiny glass of sake and knocked back a long sip, shaking her incredible hair back over her shoulders. "Besides eating sushi and being exceedingly polite to nosy strangers."

"I work for the FBI," Scully said, hiding a smile, "which makes me the nosy stranger most of the time."

"Ah," Laura said. "Well, I'm a teacher, so I'm nosy but not quite a stranger, after the first day."

"Repeat business," Scully said, surprised at her own facility for banter, after the years of tenebrous, labyrinthine conversations with Mulder, in which she might use words like tenebrous and labyrinthine. "Maybe that's the secret to a high solution rate."

"Maybe so," Laura said. She patted the chair next to her. "Shift over here and we'll be nosy together."

Scully picked up her bag - strange to carry a purse again, when all she's needed for so long is her ID and her sidearm - and resettled herself in the chair next to Laura.

"Are you in town for long?"

"Weekend wedding," Scully said, shrugging, as the server set her plate in front of her. "I begged out of the last-minute shoe and lingerie shopping. You?"

"There was a conference," Laura said. "Hours and hours sequestered in a room with a bunch of straightlaced education professionals, debating the finer points of pedagogy. They did give me a nice plaque with my name on it, but I needed a drink."

"I understand completely," Scully said.

"So," Laura said, lifting another piece of sushi, "we'll never see each other again. Tell me absolutely everything."

"I think I'll need some sake," Scully said, signaling the server.

They had sake. They had sushi. Scully was amazed to find herself giggling at one point, the tops of her chopsticks rattling against her plate as she shook with laughter. She wasn't certain what the conversation was even about anymore. She'd shared a few of the less confidential Mulder anecdotes, and insisted to a skeptical Laura that stakeouts were boring, really, and so was undercover work most of the time, and all firearms aside, the job was mostly paperwork and cheap motels. Laura told stories about her students until Scully's sides hurt from laughing and her fingers were tingling from the alcohol. Scully could see why Laura had gotten an award; she had a quiet authority and magnetism that commanded attention with demanding it. After the masculine posturing at the Bureau, it was a relief. She wanted to sink into Laura, to take direction. With Mulder, lately, she'd been lost, the two of them the only fixed point. She wanted Laura laid out under her like a map, showing the way. She wanted to survey a live body, feel Laura's heart beating and hear her gasp,see her flush and arch and bite her lip.

She put down her tiny ceramic cup. Sake had some exceptional side effects, it seemed, but she was enjoying them. Reveling, even. She hadn't felt this alive in years. Out the window (and there was a window at eye level, which was like a revelation), the streets were crowded with tourists in t-shirts, sunshine, vendors, all the things DC had but somehow so much more vibrant. Scully took a deep breath for the pleasure of breathing and ate a piece of ginger to feel her mouth burn, watching Laura eat the last piece of sushi off her plate.

"I'm thinking of going into politics," Laura said, picking up a bit of wasabi with one fingertip and licking it off in a way that made Scully's thighs tighten. "I've had an offer from someone I know to join his campaign."

"Don't do it," Scully said, pretending to look around the restaurant but really surveying Laura out of the corner of her eye. Laura had the most amazing figure for a woman of her age, which Scully estimated to be about ten years off her own. "Stay in the classroom, or at least small-time administration. Big bureaucracy is all bullshit."

"You get remarkably alliterative when you've been drinking," Laura said.

"I get remarkably lots of things," Scully said, draining her sake cup. The liquor burned sweetly down her throat; something else was burning even sweeter and hotter deep in her belly.

"Now there is something I feel the need to see," Laura said, pushing her hair back.

"Well, you show me yours, I'll show you mine," Scully said. "I believe that's how this works."

Laura giggled and cupped her hand over her mouth. "How absolutely delightful. Dirty Harry is coming up to my hotel room."

"I'll try not to sling my gun around too much," Scully said.

"I don't know," Laura said, her eyes going half-lidded. "There is a certain appeal."

"Maybe we should go down to the docks," Scully teased, "pick up a couple of sailors. Isn't that what New York was for?"

"I think you'll be quite enough to handle," Laura said. "Shall we pay?"

"Yes," Scully said, suddenly anxious to have clean sheets and Laura's skin against her skin. "Yes, let's."

They were hardly in the room before Laura's mouth was on hers. Scully dropped her bag inside the door. They didn't bother with the lights; the only sound in the plush dim of the room was the rasp of their breathing and the noise of zippers and clothing pushed aside. They stumbled out of their shoes, a little dizzy with alcohol and lust, and shed suit jackets and skirts, peeling off layers until they were down to their underwear, sliding their hands over each other's sides. For long minutes they stood there, pressed against each other, just reveling in the feel of skin, the softness of breasts and lean bellies, the firm places where bone nearly surfaced and muscle tightened. Scully let Laura take off her own bra, sliding her hand directly down between Laura's legs, pushing two fingertips against the damp cloth so that Laura groaned. Scully groaned too, shoving the fabric away, letting her fingers slip along Laura's folds before nudging into Laura's slick warmth.

"God," Scully said. She was anchored and lost in Laura, the complexity of her inner architecture, Latin names for obscure structures flitting through her head. She flexed her fingers and Laura closed her eyes.

"Mmm," Laura said, shifting against Scully's hand. "Good thing we had those hours of foreplay in the restaurant."

"I thought that was conversation," Scully teased, exploring with her fingertips.

"You've been in that basement a while," Laura said kindly, punctuating it with a deep kiss and a roll of her hips. Scully shoved gently with her hips until Laura eased herself down onto the bed. It was a nice deep mattress, but the same scratchy comforter as every hotel; the nylon rubbed against Scully's elbows and knees as she pinned Laura, running her thumb over the knot of nerves that made Laura gasp and stiffen.

"It's been a long time," Scully said.

"You're doing fine," Laura said, and pulled her down for a kiss that seemed to melt Scully from crown to heels. Scully pushed her fingers in again, deeper, searching for the place that would make Laura groan. Laura was slick and hot, her folds almost familiar after Scully's long experience with her own, but compellingly new. The pressure around her fingers was incredible. She lined her body up against Laura's, those long smooth legs tangling with hers and thrust until her palm was flat against the roundness of Laura's pelvis.

"This is hardly fair," Laura panted, cupping Scully's breast in one elegant hand. Scully strained into her touch, her higher-functioning cortexes switching off as the sensation overwhelmed her.

"What do you want?"

"Less of this," Laura said, snapping the elastic of Scully's panties against her hip.

"Absolutely," Scully said, sliding down Laura's body and hooking the slip of fabric down Laura's incredible legs. Laura shimmied lower, almost off the bed, and stripped off Scully's panties with a delighted efficiency, lipping at the crease of Scully's thigh until the edges of Scully's vision started to blur.

"You're a real redhead," Laura said, and it took Scully a long minute to laugh, pleasure taking all her breath.

"You too," Scully said, and Laura chuckled. She pushed herself back up and Scully closed her eyes, dizzied by the illusion that she herself was moving as Laura moved. Laura's hands slid up Scully's thighs, comforting and titillating all at once, and Scully couldn't help her lips parting as Laura's knuckles grazed the cleft of her body. She fumbled down Laura's body, pausing to caress Laura's breasts with hands and mouth, reaching down for that sweet spot. She hooked her fingers into Laura's body with a deep sigh of relief, her back arching as Laura's hand moved and their wrists rubbed together.

"Oh, god," Scully said, as Laura moaned. The world was this bed, close and warm, her fingers inside Laura, Laura's fingers inside her, the sweet buzz of alcohol and endorphins. Her thoughts dissolved into a haze of affirmation and yearning. God, after so long, it was such a relief to just exist in a moment that didn't include Mulder, that wasn't really her life. She was thrusting into the profound tight heat of Laura's cunt with one hand, stroking Laura's breasts and back with the other, both of them more and more frantic, clutching at hip and shoulder. Laura's hair was over her face, mingled with her own. Their skin was slick with sweat. They were breathing each other's breath, panting against each other's throats. Laura's body tensed, arching, and her growing pleasure made Scully moan too, tension driving them both up. Laura's fingers pushed and rubbed inside her and Scully pushed down, shivering. She was whispering, not even listening to herself, and Laura was too, a throaty little murmur that twisted Scully up inside. Joy was rising in her along with pleasure, so glorious she wanted to sing.

She was spring, blooming, a sudden eruption of life, and Laura was the sun warming her and the fertile field under her and all the things Scully didn't have in her subterranean city life. There was a light in the dim room and it was Laura's face, glowing as she threw her head back, her lips and cheeks flushed hot red. Laura moaned, high and breathy and then deeper, faster, as Scully's fingers kept pace and Laura's trembled in just the right ways. Scully urged her on, shifting her hips against Laura's, desperate for release, and Laura almost shouted, her body pulling into a gorgeous arch. Scully shivered, aching, pulsing, and Laura kissed her and gathered herself. She pushed her fingers deep into Scully, her thumb rubbing at Scully's clit, and Scully felt herself detaching from her body, free, flying through a field of stars.

She panted her way back to consciousness with Laura idly stroking her hair. Wordless, they curled into each other's bodies, tugging an edge of the comforter over themselves. Later, there would be showers, goodbyes, maybe regrets. For now, it was spring.


End file.
